


nearness of you

by arxialiria



Category: 30歳まで童貞だと魔法使いになれるらしい | 30-sai Made Doutei da to Mahou Tsukai ni Nareru Rashii (TV)
Genre: Jazz Music, M/M, Memory, Shimanami Tasogare Reference, Slow Dancing, Telepathy, adachi enjoys how sentimental he is, kurosawa feels a lot of things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arxialiria/pseuds/arxialiria
Summary: “Have you... never danced with someone before?” Kurosawa asked, his face struck with a genuine concern. "I'd wondered... after that day we were with Tsuge, but-"Adachi blinked in surprise.“No, not… uh, with another person. Never had much of a reason to, I suppose.” He said.
Relationships: Adachi Kiyoshi/Kurosawa Yuichi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 90





	nearness of you

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Adachi's thoughts are in blue, Kurosawa's in red.

“I think it’s just a metaphor.” Adachi said, taking another sip of tea. “I got the sense they’re not meant to be realistic… they're like a guide.”

The evening air was warm, with the room doused in burnt orange light. They were sitting side by side at the chabudai in Adachi’s apartment, having just finished one of Kurosawa’s new recipes he’d insisted on trying out. Adachi had repeatedly apologised for the quality of his cookware for a meal so involved, only for Kurosawa to insist it wasn’t a problem.

Even if they were together, Adachi still had that tendency to kick himself over the smallest things, anxiety being a habit that wouldn’t leave him so easily. In turn, he found solace in small things he could give Kurosawa. With Ragna Crimson taking a break, they had a while to wait for a new issue to come out, so the previous evening Adachi had recommended a manga to Kurosawa from the back of his shelf. Truth be told, he’d placed Shinamami Tasogare there purposefully after reading the first two chapters. Reading them submerged him in emotions he’d never felt, and didn’t know how to grapple with. He liked romance novels, and the drama that came with them, but the near-tragedy for a topic so close to home was a step too far for one of his first forays into queer manga. He liked what he could get through, however. Very much.

Maybe he'd give it another go some other time. Maybe Kurosawa would fare better, he thought.  
  
He usually did, after all.

"Oh I see... like magic realism! That makes much more sense." Kurosawa laughed. “I liked Anonymous a lot. They were kind but, there’s something interesting about them not having a name. Made them more mysterious… like a focal point character.”

“Well, what if Anonymous was their name in the same sense we use ours? It’s like… their own way of being truthful to themself. They’re close to the others by being so… free, from any cultural ties… I think.” Adachi felt himself get a little red, speaking like that.

He liked picking apart stories, and had been well versed in the practice during college where Tsuge pried his thoughts out of him. When Kurosawa had wanted to talk to him about psychology in Ragna, he’d wanted to leap at the chance but instead just bit down on his lip, every nervous part of him yelling to withdraw. That was no longer the case, thankfully.

“Choosing your name gives you closeness to others?” Kurosawa prompted, less about not knowing, more so a desire to know what Adachi’s answer was.

“Mm, they’re... a comfort for the others at the lounge. Their name reflects how they’re othered just like the rest of them. After all, there’s... a lot of weight behind the name others refer to you as, right?”

Adachi allowed himself to enjoy the irony just a little bit. He felt like the cultural connoisseur for once, in a sense. He’d figured out over their discussions that Kurosawa tended to lean into shounen or fantasy manga, whereas Adachi could read just about any genre from being raised on his mother’s shōjo books and branching out. It was how he found Shinamami Tasogare, having ordered it online after seeing some buzz about it on a manga artist’s forum he frequented.

“You’re... very right.” Kurosawa said. “I hadn’t thought about it like that before. I got so focused on how otherworldly they were, but... in a way I guess that’s the point, just like you said! You’re really perceptive!”

“Oh… really? Ah- t-thank you.” Adachi said, looking around so as not to make eye contact. Kurosawa was doing that flashy smile again and he knew all too well how obscenely red he’d likely become.

"Oh, I meant to say!” Kurosawa began, mercifully changing the subject. “I saw this morning, Ragna is getting an anime adaptation."

"Really?" Adachi said, surprised. It was a strange enough coincidence Kurosawa read it as well, let alone it being popular enough for an adaptation.

"Do you watch animation?" Kurosawa asked.

Adachi had to think about that one. He wasn't exactly a fan, tending to prefer comics. Truth be told, he mostly didn't have the time to be overly involved. Manga and his illustration work was his stress relief. Give his head something easy to do at the end of the day.

"Eh, sometimes if the studio is good! But… I do prefer manga overall."

"You'll have to tell me what's worth watching then, I've not tended to watch adaptations myself." Kurosawa said, taking another drink. Adachi would have been more than happy to gush about animators all evening to him.

"Though... I do like to think about music while I’m reading, making up a soundtrack. It makes the panels more vivid." Kurosawa added.

“Really!” Adachi responded, riveted. “I sort of do that as well…! Sometimes, when I’m drawing, I’ll listen to something and the feeling it gives me… flows into my pen, kind of like the way you read, right?”

As Adachi met his eyes again, he was met with an enraptured Kurosawa who then nodded in understanding.  
“How do you choose what to listen to?” Adachi prompted. Kurosawa didn't talk often about his musical interests, but he'd spotted the box of vinyl at his apartment. In fact, any time he’d seen it, not a single speck of dust lay atop it.

“Ah... Well, I first discern the tone of the story.” Kurosawa said, placing his hand on his chin as he thought on the question. “I like reading older manga, where the animation has composed a soundtrack for it already, even if I haven’t watched it, but otherwise I’ll make things up as I go. Usually, it’s all instrumentals so it’s not distracting.”

“I completely agree!” Adachi said. “Hearing singers while I’m working takes me out of it too much.”

“Yes, exactly! Who do you like listening to as you work then?” Kurosawa asked, his face bright with curiosity.

Adachi was faced with the thought of confessing his tastes in music, and with his brain’s usual, very efficient immediacy, he stalled. What if Kurosawa knew none of them? Would that be embarrassing? Or if he thought they were all lame-

No, he hit himself on the head mentally. Kurosawa wouldn’t think less of him for what he listened to. Well, maybe if he was one for Merzbow he’d get a raised eyebrow. Good thing his taste in instrumental music didn’t go quite that far.

“Adachi?” Kurosawa asked. “It’s… really quite alright if you don’t want to tell me.” He smiled.

“No, no, it’s just, uh-” Adachi tried to begin. Music tastes were one of those questions with infuriatingly big answers, where despite Adachi listening to so much and having plenty to say on the subject, his brain would drop all of what he knew in an instant.

“If it makes you feel any easier, I’ll give anything a chance. I listen to anime soundtracks, after all.” He laughed, gentle and easy.

“Tell me an artist you like then!” Adachi insisted, bowing his head a little so as not to make eye contact. It had been an embarrassingly simple question, after all.

“Hmm...” Kurosawa pondered. “Something I like… well, from my soundtracks, I loved Hirano and Taniuchi’s work on Death Note, and anything Kanno Yoko or Kawai Kenji do. The way Kawai integrates folk vocals in modern music is incredible.”

“Kawai Kenji… Oh!” Adachi realised. “Like Ghost in the Shell, right!”

“Yes!” Kurosawa exclaimed.

“I would actually draw to that album in college, I’m really fond of it.” Adachi began. “I even have the old CD somewhere on that shelf.” He gestured over to his bookshelf, forgetting it was hidden behind the wall.

“Really?” Kurosawa said, eyes lit up.

“It was sort of surreal, wasn’t it? The way he could draw out the synthesisers like that, it got me into ambient. When a song is that slow it’s…”

“Really soothing, right?” Kurosawa offered, and Adachi nodded his head, feeling a little more at ease. “You like electronic music, then?” He asked.

“Kind of...? That's such a… wide genre!” Adachi laughed. “If we’re talking about ambient, I really like Yoshimura Hiroshi, but in general, well, sure, I even have some pop stuff, but I don’t like listening to _that_ very often.”

“Ah, so you’re less fond of chart music-”

“No! No, not that. It’s… uh…” Adachi mumbled, afraid he’d given Kurosawa the wrong impression yet again. God, he really didn’t want to be like pretentious people he’d seen online, pop music was _fine_ , in small doses, just-  
He took a shallow breath. “I like all kinds of pop music, but it reminds me of people…!”

“People?” Kurosawa repeated, visibly confused.

“Uh…” Adachi scrambled for words. “Not the best word, sorry, but... when I would be in college, it's the music I would hear through the walls, in parties I never went to, or outside of bars and nightclubs I never danced in. Don't often associate fun things with it the way a lot of people do.”

Kurosawa had the uncanny ability to get that kind of information out of him, something about his charm, perhaps. No, better yet, Adachi thought, it was something of the comforting aura Kurosawa exuded. Even if Adachi would stutter and stumble the whole day, Kurosawa didn’t waver or look exhausted with him even once. Every time Adachi had come to expect some kind of antagonism for his awkwardness, he was met with a smile from Kurosawa, a calm endearment so sincere he still didn’t quite know how to handle it.

For once, however, Kurosawa was the one lost for words. The few times Adachi could meet his eyes as they conversed, he’d found that Kurosawa’s face actually processed his feelings quite visually. It helped that Adachi could know what he thought as he thought it, but it was, in a way, still fascinating to watch it happen in real time.

“Adachi…” Kurosawa began, low and serious.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down, I-”

“Have you... never danced with someone before?” Kurosawa asked, his face struck with a genuine concern. "I'd wondered… after that day we were with Tsuge, but-"

Adachi blinked in surprise.

“No, not… uh, with another person. Never had much of a reason to, I suppose.” He said, nervously scratching the back of his neck with a smile.

Kurosawa seemed to regain his composure, easing off that intense thinking-into-the-distance stare he did when he thought Adachi wasn't looking at him. He moved to sit close to him, enough that their knees were touching.  
He opened his mouth as though to speak, but his eyes were drawn towards Adachi’s hand on the table as he placed his own atop it. Kurosawa’s touch was careful, fingertips barely ghosting over Adachi’s skin. His trepidation, the echo of his inner voice, a longing so visceral- it was enough to make Adachi feel as though he was set alight.

“Would you like to, with me? Not outside, but… here?” Kurosawa asked.

Ah, I hope I don’t scare him. He might hide from it but… at least… I want him to have the choice where he's not been able to have it before.

Adachi didn’t so much think as speak the first question that came to mind.

“What…” He began. “What could... we dance to…?”

Yes! Was that a yes?

“Oh, uh, I have a few things on my phone-" He said, getting up and striding over to Adachi's desk to bring out his phone.

“Kurosawa, sorry, I-I don’t really dance at all, and- my neighbours they-” He stuttered, startled at Kurosawa’s sudden shift. This was uncharted territory, and the last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself. “I don’t want to be inconsiderate-”

Kurosawa stilled himself for a moment, turning to look at Adachi with a gentle nod.

“If you really don’t want to, I understand, but… I do have an idea I think you'd like, if you wanted to give it a chance." He said, again without the slightest hint of frustration or annoyance at him. It would unnerve Adachi almost, if it wasn’t for knowing how honest he really was.

"You said you liked slow music after all, right?” Kurosawa added.

"Oh, um- that’s actually a good idea." Adachi said, bashful. _Of course_ it wouldn’t be some loud dance piece. "Could it be something _really_ easy, though? You know me, I'm not-"

"Of course. Those small speakers are in this drawer right?" Kurosawa asked.

"Mm."

Adachi shut his eyes in anticipation, his shoulders clenched up as he gripped both his knees with his hands.

Slow music? What on earth was he planning? You can’t _dance_ to ambient, not unless you were some kind of art student, so it was it _pop_? Please don't make it pop-

He reminded himself, however, that Kurosawa was a _cool_ person, and he could lean into that a little bit. He’d never, in any lifetime, do something to embarrass Adachi- that was something he knew for sure. Even still, Adachi had two left feet from the day he’d been born. There were some things even Kurosawa couldn’t help with.

Oh what am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? I _can't_ dance, I _don't_ move like that and definitely not to pop music, it's-

The beginning chords of a soft piano piece reached his ears, and Adachi felt a sudden, cooling wave wash over him. The note pattern repeated, its rhythm calm and easy just as his boyfriend had promised.

"It's a jazz piece, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong." Kurosawa said.

"Oh, I've heard of them…!" Adachi said. "They’re old jazz artists right?"

"Mm." Kurosawa said, taking a step closer to where Adachi was sitting, offering out his hand.

A woman's voice had begun to coast through the air, graceful and deep in tone. There was a quaintness to the song, a serene, tranquil joy.

Adachi moved to take his hand. "I-I don't know any steps, sorry-"

"You don't need to.” Kurosawa laughed, reassuring. “Just turn with me." He said, as Adachi tentatively took his hand to be pulled up from the floor.

Easier said than done!

Adachi's breath caught in his throat as felt Kurosawa's hand on his back.

"Is this all right?" Kurosawa asked. There was thankfully some space between them, since Adachi thought he'd combust if it closed. It was stressful enough thinking about how not to embarrass himself.

I'm not perfect with steps either, but... I hope he likes at least this.

_Eh?_

The woman's voice soothed the night air as Kurosawa adjusted them both, nudging Adachi to put his hand atop his shoulder. He didn't take his right hand away from Adachi's left the entire time no matter how much Adachi stumbled, keeping his grip tight to steady them.

"The most important thing is not to overthink it, just lean into me." Kurosawa said as he moved, swaying them together gently to get them into a rhythm. Adachi did his best to follow suit, concentrating on the soft strings in the bass and definitely not Kurosawa’s brazen flirting.

He struggled in the beginning minute, feeling his strength pushing against Kurosawa's as he tried to learn the most basic motion. Eventually his power came in handy, knowing Kurosawa's thoughts so intimately allowed him to visualise what he needed to do far easier than he expected.

His legs didn't quite follow suit as well as the rest of him did, but Kurosawa was more than patient. In fact, Adachi was surprised at how his thoughts were almost pragmatic. He was constantly keeping his feelings at bay, thinking mostly on how best to teach Adachi. The constant soft beat of the strings helped him keep in time without too much pressure, and Adachi found himself not having to be overly conscious of where he was going next as often until-

Adachi accidentally stumbled _right_ onto Kurosawa's foot, and tried to back off in embarrassment before Kurosawa pulled him back in.

"No! That was perfect, you were getting into it!" He said, and Adachi noticed, when he returned his hand to his back, that he'd pulled them a little closer than before.

I was… doing fine? Maybe… I can get used to this.

Adachi smiled a little to himself. "I think this is one of those things that come best with practice." He said. "Whenever I dance I feel like a fawn trying to stand up for the first time."

But it's so cute, I could almost cry. He's getting there too, so much faster than I thought.

"I don’t think that at all." Kurosawa said, almost whispering. “I wouldn’t want to dance with anyone but you.”

Adachi could barely get a word out in response, for his footwork demanded attention as they turned. It took focus, but there was an ease to it then that hadn’t been apparent before. He wanted to be a good dance partner for Kurosawa.

For everything he’d given Adachi, Adachi wanted to return it tenfold. Yet, when they were synced enough that he could close his eyes and think of the sound, Adachi reasoned with himself: he couldn’t think of it as some kind of exchange or debt. He wanted to be a good dancer because… he liked the feeling of it too. He'd told Kurosawa off before for trying too hard to be perfect after all, so the same had to apply to himself.

Keeping their flow meant he put much of his weight on him, but Adachi liked the feeling of relying on Kurosawa’s strength. He was more than capable, and it most certainly wasn’t a chore to him- that much he knew.

Strangely, he noticed that Kurosawa's thoughts weren’t too loud despite their constant contact. Every time he met his eyes however, he could hear them with distinct clarity.

He's so wonderful, I knew he'd get it but not this quickly!

I can't believe we're so close. I wish I could pull him a little closer, but I'm so grateful even for just this.

At that thought, and with the graze of a trumpet through the sound, Adachi pushed into him a little. Stretching his arm out, he closed the space between them just a breath more. He kept his head back and upright however, if only to see the face of a then practically beaming Kurosawa.

"Is this alright?" Adachi asked, barely concealing the mischief behind his smile. Closing their distance didn't fluster him as much if he wasn’t taken by surprise, and it was especially delightful when it floored Kurosawa instead.

With a small sigh of surprise, Kurosawa gripped his hand around Adachi’s back a little tighter, whispering back.

"It's more than alright."

Thank you, so much.

They weren’t going fast, the music wouldn’t let them. It had become but a simple step every so often to turn and that was _more_ than enough. Much of the movement came from Kurosawa swaying them softly, steadying his arms and posture, and it let Adachi feel so much more _free_ once he’d learned the, admittedly, extraordinarily simple pattern. They felt akin to a current, coasting through a stream guided by a simple, encompassing gravity: inexorable, and inseparable.

The voice had changed to Armstrong’s, his voice deep and gravelly yet holding the melody just as sweetly. Adachi wondered if they were talking to each other.

I think… I really do know what they’re singing about now.

“Kurosawa?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you know what they’re saying? I’m curious.”

“Ah, just a little. It’s a song about… being close to another person.” He said, stifling a bashful laugh. “I don’t really know all of it, but, that’s the point. The sound itself carries their feelings.”

Adachi’s prompt had made Kurosawa remember what he knew of the song, and Adachi involuntarily tensed up.

When you're in my arms  
And I feel you so close to me  
All my wildest dreams came true

He barely kept their balance, gripping Kurosawa’s hand a little tighter, and maintained their rhythm by some miracle.

“You’re… amazing.” He said sincerely, if trying to still his nerves. “How... do you know this song?”

A beat of silence lingered before Kurosawa spoke, and Adachi was swept away in a stream of nostalgia.

“She toured here, in the 60s. My grandfather went to see her, bought up all the vinyls as soon as he could, and he’d play them for my mother, who played them for me.”

And I wouldn’t play it for anyone but him.

A familiar sensation had seized Adachi again: that of Kurosawa feeling something so earnest that Adachi had become magnetised to his innermost feelings. Yet, Adachi didn’t find himself lost in those mental waters, for Kurosawa was remembering the very song that was playing then, grounding himself almost. As he realised, Adachi tried to meet his eyes but Kurosawa was staring into the distance.

Adachi closed his own, and tried his best to follow him. In doing so he was met with a memory that became more and more vivid with every passing second- yet it flickered somehow, something he hadn’t experienced before. A sense of the present merging and diverging into the past, entangled-

Kurosawa’s bedroom was still, a soft hue of amber from the only light by his bedside still on.

He’d been tired from work, but hadn’t even changed out of his shirt. Adachi could feel the headphones covering his ears, the very song of their present being recalled at a distance. Instead what was most immediate to Adachi was Kurosawa’s own body. He was standing, no- swaying, on his own.

He had one arm wrapped around himself, the other hand he’d brought up to his face, slowly stroking his cheek with the back of his knuckle.

He moved and swayed in time the exact way they were then, except, something else was reaching in. A thought, the image of a fantasy. Longing.

Adachi was familiar with the pull towards it, yet… his imagination only flickered, the image only as significant as a single drop in a vast ocean. Adachi could only see the most faded fragment of himself in Kurosawa’s mind. An impression tangled in both the image and reality. He was drawn back by a constant pull to the present, where Adachi didn’t need to shock himself out of Kurosawa’s mental space for once.

Kurosawa met his eyes again with a soft smile, and took a breath as though he was holding something in his chest.  


This is… so much more than what I dreamt of.

Adachi bit down on his lip, and mustered all his strength to ignore the lump in the back of his throat. He studied his face, realising they’d rarely been this close before.

"Kurosawa...?" Adachi spoke, without thinking of what could come next.

"Hm?" He said.

"You looked... lost in thought. It was cute." Was the only thing he could muster in response, all too aware of replying to him on accident.

"Oh, sorry! I- I wasn't-"

He chuckled at him softly, flustering Kurosawa even more.

He wondered if it was specific to their relationship’s character so bound to his telepathy, but he knew, deep in his chest, it was more than a fondness, comfort or desire. That he was, truly, in some sense in love with him. He dared not speak such a thing out loud, for it was something that would be proven in time, through trust, through bravery, yet… the certainty of it remained, wordless.

I'm right here.

Adachi looked at their clasped hands to his left, and loosened his grip.

Where Kurosawa almost paused their dance, Adachi managed to keep them turning and laced their fingers together, palm to palm, his grip just as tight and steady as before.

He smiled fondly at the sight of them, how easily they fit together, before taking another breath. He was pushed by a rare momentum, a courage, one he’d never allowed himself before Kurosawa had finally spoken to him that night in October.

He tightened his grip around Kurosawa's shoulder, and pulled him right unto himself until they were pressed flush. His lips were so close to his chest he turned to rest his head on him instead. With only the thin layer of his shirt fabric separating them, Adachi felt all of Kurosawa's warmth overcome him, his heartbeat visceral next to his ear.

"Is _this_ all right?" He whispered, quiet as he could possibly be over the music in an attempt to cradle the moment. One that, before Kurosawa had responded, was to him too transient and fragile to disturb with something so cutting as a voice.

He felt Kurosawa move to speak, yet nothing came. Instead, the same magnetism as when he’d hugged him on the bridge. The careful kindling of a single ember in the snow. Then a feeling of disbelief, of awareness and gratitude and the most profound and sincere sense of love that Adachi never dreamt anyone would have felt about him his entire life.

 _Don’t ask for the moon_ , Adachi had told himself. Yet that whole time, moonlight fell upon his shoulders, yearning.

Seconds passed, they turned once again.

If you would only grant me the right  
To hold you ever so tight

Eventually Adachi felt Kurosawa’s cheek nestle atop his head, and the particularly tender warmth that came from him wrapping his arm around his waist just a little tighter. Kurosawa gently nodded his head, affirming.

Time ebbed and flowed to the sound, the two of them less aware of what was passing than what was present.

The music faded to a stop before beginning anew, similar in tone and timbre with the same singer. Neither of them paused in their flow, maintaining their rhythm as though it was now the easiest thing in the world.

Kurosawa's feelings never wavered in intensity nor affection, yet Adachi could reach into the dense waters sometimes and hear something echo in the distance.

He adjusted himself a little, nestling into Kurosawa as he had done atop his head, as though pressing his ear a little closer to his heart would let him hear better.

Kurosawa thought only a single thing, a single name.

Adachi felt the fervour rise in his cheeks, the consuming spark in his chest as it swelled.

Kurosawa pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his hair, and Adachi brought his arm down from his shoulder to across the arm that was wrapped around him, reaching across Kurosawa’s back to hold him. Their motion didn’t permit too tight a grip around each other, yet that temperance and restraint made Adachi ache for anything more that his touch could find.

Kurosawa was much the same, yet Adachi was already bundled up in his arms, so his thoughts turned to a presentness in the moment again, untethered by memory or fantasy. Only a name he desired to speak, and a name he desired to be called by, threaded through a single, binding thought.

I adore you.

Kiyoshi didn't flinch.

____________________________

_Look at me_  
_I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree_  
_And I feel like I'm clingin' to a cloud_  
_I can't understand_  
_I get misty, just holding your hand_

_Walk my way_  
_And a thousand violins begin to play_  
_Or it might be the sound of your hello_  
_That music I hear_  
_I get misty whenever you're near_

**Author's Note:**

> Songs referenced are: 
> 
> Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong - Nearness of You  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W36h1RQ11fQ
> 
> Ella Fitzgerald - Misty  
> https://youtu.be/wIMACAW-A0g?list=LL
> 
> Clarification: I am in fact a Merzbow enthusiast 👀


End file.
